


On the Margin of a Successful Failure

by estike



Series: goodbye is forever (so do not rush out the door) [1]
Category: COMPANY - Ibuki Yuki, Company - Lesson Passion Company Takarazuka Revue
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estike/pseuds/estike
Summary: Minakami Nayuta prepares to leave his dressing room and say goodbye to Haseyama Sota after the last performance of the Swan Lake is done.
Relationships: Minakami Nayuta & Haseyama Sota
Series: goodbye is forever (so do not rush out the door) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775695
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	On the Margin of a Successful Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the novel but can be read as a fanfic for the Takarazuka adaptation too.

**Nayuta**

The applause echoes in his ears long after he makes his way into his dressing room, and sits down on the dressing table’s stool motionless, unable to move. It’s a kind of applause he doesn’t remember hearing before. No screams, no shouts, no cheers. Just overwhelming applause. He tries to smile straight into the spotlight and let the audience have what they need. He is holding Takano’s hand on one side, and Minami’s on the other.

Today, the Prince was like a baby, clinging to Rothbart in their last scenes, starved for affection. Starved out for death. Some may say it was only for getting some hashtags to trend on social media, and if the show goes viral over such a small thing, well, let it happen. Although Takano was the injured one, he needed to be held up, or he’d collapse on stage. 

Nayuta takes a deep breath, staring into the makeup mirror. It has been a while since they all returned backstage. Takano was driven to a hospital immediately, and he closed his dressing room’s door on himself and waited in the dark.

What for? He doesn’t know. What he knows is that the whole Barbarian Family and a large group of fans are waiting for him in the parking lot, with cakes and merry laughter, and they do not want to see a Minakami Nayuta who just spent an extended intermission in the toilet, throwing up and crying and then throwing up more.

He needs to act happy. He needs to act like a person.

He can’t think of Sara now or he’ll die, he tells himself. 

Someone knocks on the door. 

“I don’t want to be filmed!” he yells, assuming it is the camera crew for his documentary. 

“Okay, I will make sure I won’t film you then.” But it is Sota’s voice on the other side of the door. 

The door’s handle is pushed down, and Sota enters the dressing room, sticking his head in first. He looks around in the darkness before flicking the lights on.

“Why are you sitting here, in the dark, Nayuta?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. 

Sota has already changed back to his normal clothes, and his makeup is gone, too. Well, mostly. His sloppy makeup removal method left some dark circles around his eyes, amplifying them. 

He could have played the evil Rothbart easily, Nayuta thinks to himself. Maybe in another show, in a few years, Sota could headline a show centred on Rothbart. At that time, he’ll probably get a professional dancer too, as his partner, Nayuta thinks, bitterly. One that wouldn’t ruin, you know, everything. 

“They told me to come and check on you,” Sota says, approaching him.

And by they, he most likely meant the Barbarian’s leader, Akutsu. Nayuta received several texts from him when the show ended and while he knows that he should at least read them or give a sign of life, his hand wouldn’t extend as far as the dressing table, where his phone was left before the show. 

“Come on.” Sota nudges him by the shoulder. “It is over now. You can get your promotion party, and then forget about this night forever.”

The last thing he wants is a party right now. 

“I can’t,” he whispers. He would moan if he had any energy left in himself to do that.

Sota kneels down next to him, so they’d be on the same level.

“Come on, Nayucchi,” he calls him, as the Barbarian Family and the fans would refer to him. This is the first time he’d use a nickname on him, and Nayuta isn’t sure if he’s just simply mocking him, even now. “Let’s get dressed.” 

Without further ado, Sota unzips the top of the costume on him and begins to peel it off of him, gently.

“Hands up,” he instructs.

Nayuta follows, although there is no spirit left in his movements. Now he is sitting before his makeup mirror but without a shirt. Not much has changed. He watches Sota picking up the makeup remover sheets from the table and taking one out of the plastic holder. Sota uses Nayuta’s knees to turn the stool he sits on and takes it upon himself to wash the makeup off of his face.

Staring into Sota’s face, Nayuta sniffles. Then, he finally resolves to move and takes a wet sheet out of the packet himself, gently dabbing the makeup off from under Sota’s eyes in return, where splatters of blue eyeshadow and some eyeliner still remain. He seems surprised at first, but he doesn’t protest.

Sota throws his sheet covered in foundation and shimmer in the bin under the dressing table. “Can you take over from here?” he asks. 

He dabbles the last speckles of blue off of him, then makes a vague sound. 

Nayuta looks up at him as he is scanning the room, trying to collect the boy’s everyday clothes he is supposed to be wearing already. He is probably thinking that his job would be much easier if the boy didn’t send his dresser away the moment he came back from the curtain call, telling him he’d do all of this alone.

“Okay, tights next,” Sota instructs. Nothing happens, so his voice grows warmer. “Will you really make me drag those off too?” 

Nayuta nods. Not because he really wants to make him do it but because his arms feel completely powerless. Sota kneels before him again and diligently pulls his tights off. If he had any energy left in his body, he’d use that to be ashamed. Nayuta glances at the unopened Power Wing on the dressing table. Maybe he should try some of that. 

He opens the bottle slowly screwing the lid off and takes a few sips, while Sota is still on his knees before him. They stare at each other for a while, without any words exchanged. Nayuta sniffles. 

His phone buzzes on the table again. Nayuta reaches for it, then stops in the middle of the motion. It is a LINE notification, to follow the fifty other notifications he already received from Akutsu. Sota takes the phone and gently pushes Nayuta’s thumb down on it to unlock. 

Then, he replies to Akutsu.

“Be right there,” he slowly says, as he types. “Had some costume trouble. Dresser is working on it.” 

The answer comes almost immediately. Sota sighs. 

“You dismissed your dresser for the day. Aoyagi told us in passing when driving Takano to the hospital,” he reads. Then, he adds in a dark voice. “Why, thank you, Ichi.”

Then, it must have been Aoyagi Seiichi or someone from the ballet company, who sent Sota here to check on him after all, he thinks. 

Nayuta takes the phone out of his hand and writes back to Akutsu.

_ I’m with Haseyama Sota. He’s on it.  _

_He better be on it quickly_ _then_ , comes the reply, _everyone is waiting for you_. That doesn’t help. That really does not help. 

Sota leans forward to read the message on the screen, then nods. He probably wonders when on earth he signed up to be a baby-sitter. Nevertheless, he still does it. 

They slowly manage to dress Nayuta up together. He looks at his pale complexion in the mirror, wondering if Akutsu wanted him to smear some tanning gel all over his body before appearing in front of the crowd. He would be a Barbarian now, after all, not a dainty Prince. 

He ran out of time to wash his hair now, so he tries to comb into it with his fingers only, tangling up the Prince’s prim, fair locks. His roots are already showing under the honey blonde dye. 

Sota grips both of his shoulders from behind, staring at his reflection in the mirror. When their eyes meet, he doesn’t smile. 

“Ready?” Sota asks. 

Nayuta sucks his lower lip in and nods, not really in agreement, but because he knows he has to. He walks to the window and tries to look outside but their view is not on the parking lot. After sending a text to Akutsu that he’d be coming, Nayuta looks up at Sota. 

“Come with me?” 

“I’m not a Barbarian,” Sota tells him.

He knows. That is kind of obvious. It is not like the other company members aren’t invited to the party, though.

When he doesn’t look away from the boy, he realizes that he has to agree or Nayuta just simply wouldn’t move.

“Okay,” he says, with a sigh. 

He looks around in his dressing room. When the celebrations are done outside, he’d need to come back and pack up everything, but not now. 

“Just a little more, and it’s over,” Sota tells him as they get out of the room and walk down the hallway. 

Once you pass by the dressing rooms and meeting rooms, you would arrive at the security guard’s office at the back entrance. The aisle in front of the office leads to the glass-windowed back door, which is right opposite to the parking lot the Barbarians’ van is parked at. Even when they are only making their final turn before the security guards, Nayuta can hear Breakthrough faintly playing outside.

“After this, you can just go home, forget about everything and sleep,” Sota continues his thought after some consideration.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get to sleep, after this promotion,” Nayuta tells him. 

It is not that he did not want this. In fact, he did most things with this one prize in mind. But when it came to achieving it through pushing a finger between Ariake Sara’s ribs, his whole world began to come apart.

And Nayuta knows it wouldn’t last forever. He’d be fine - just please not now.

They make their last turn, and now the big automatic door before the parking lot is clearly visible. With the hallways illuminated in bright lights, the fans and band members outside must be able to spot them already. Nayuta bows at the two security guards inside the office, then notes that a few of them are stationed outside too. 

“Smile,” Sota reminds him before they’d go outside. “Your camera crew is waiting for you.”

He is already blinded, not just by the camera crew’s lights, but the flash of the smartphones, taking pictures of him. By the time he realizes, Sota has disappeared and is not standing next to him. Nayuta looks around, searching for him until he realizes that his moments of confusion are going straight to Twitter and who knows where else. He smiles, flashing his teeth right back at them, and waves at the crowd with both hands. Thankfully, the parking lot has a second floor, so they are covered from above and more or less safe from the cold winter night. 

Akutsu comes to fetch him.

-

It is a while later when he is slicing the cake he has no plan on eating from when he notices Sota in the crowd again. He is not standing with the fans who are lined up in a respective distance, behind the few security guards, but he is also not standing with the Barbarians and the company members. 

Nayuta glares at him and extends his arm, beckoning him forward. Some people’s attention turns towards Sota, who reluctantly makes his way to the Barbarians’ van. 

“Eat some cake,” Nayuta offers. His own slice. 

Sota accepts it, but he is clearly uncomfortable by being in the Barbarians’ spotlight, despite many other dancers being present. Minami is nowhere to be found, but a lot of male dancers have come out after Nayuta finally pulled himself together, and joined them in the celebration.

“Come on,” Akutsu tells Sota, clapping his back. “We got cake for everyone - and besides, everyone wants to see a little more of the handsome ballet dancer who played the Prince’s best friend.”

Nayuta offers him the slice on the paper plate once again. He has thrown up enough for today, he wouldn’t risk it in front of a crowd of dedicated fans. 

Sota takes it this time. “What am I?” his eyes are asking. 

“I hear it’s very delicious,” Nayuta tells him, to soften his gaze.

He hands a plastic fork over to Sota, who then samples the cake. 

“Not so bad,” he says, with a faint smile. 

Breakthrough is still playing softly in the background. In a loop, over and over again.

“Akutsu says we have some champagne behind the van too, but that’s not for everyone,” Nayuta tells him, in a whisper. “Only for the dancers tonight.”

He urges Sota to get two glasses and drink one for Nayuta too. The boy shakes his head but then walks around with two plastic cups later on in each hand, alternately sipping from each. Seeing that makes him smile, genuinely for once tonight. 

Once the event is over, and the camera crew is packing up, Sota sneaks one last glass of champagne with himself before they’d go backstage again. Akutsu notices but says nothing. Instead, he claps Nayuta in the back.

“Well done for tonight, new frontman of the Barbarians.” 

Nayuta closes his eyes. He is used to being babied - maybe this decision was premature after all he thinks for a moment. 

After destroying a principal’s final night on stage, he’d go on to lead a bunch of men who are older than him from tonight onwards. What a capable young man, he tells himself, as he looks at Sota a few steps away from him, talking to a group of dancers. 

He takes a deep breath. 

People are cleaning up the van, ready to leave, and the fans have dispersed already, as prompted by the security guards. The camera crew is also loading their lights and other equipment into their own car. Everything around him tells him that it is over. They are beginning a new chapter.

An hour ago he might have been a part of this group but he is an outsider again. Nayuta’s consciousness of this fact grows so strong that he feels like he left his body, floating above the parking lot, and looking down on this scene that he does not belong in. He turns on his heels and makes his way back to his dressing room. There are so many things he still needs to do before being able to call it a day.

His costumes belong to Shikishima Ballet so the only thing he needs to do is leaving them on the rack for later. He still needs to pack up all the makeup he used, and gather all the gifts and fan letters his fans left him at the stage door in the past few days. 

Fifteen minutes later he hastily zips his bag up and takes a last look in the mirror. Aoyagi is still in the hospital, so someone else would arrange his car home, he assumes.

Just as he opens the door to his dressing room for one last time, he almost hits a slightly wavering Haseyama Sota, with a big Boston bag on his side. 

“Hi,” Sota says. “You look much better and I am a little bit tipsy. I shouldn’t have stolen that champagne.” 

Nayuta laughs at that.

They walk back to the parking lot together, side by side. Nayuta remembers how he’d use to get on his nerves for fun - and yet Sota still did everything for him today. He did things beyond everything, in fact. That makes him feel melancholic, again. 

“I’m sure Aoyagi told you, but we’re going to have an end of the year party with the whole company. You should come,” Sota tells him.

“I’ll see if my agency says it fits in my schedule.” 

“We will drink more,” Sota promises, “and I might even compliment you.”

“Oh?” 

Sota stops, right before they would reach the security guard’s office. His face turns very serious.

“Nobody ever made Sara dance as well as you did tonight. Nobody. Not Mizuho, not me, not even Haruka. Nobody.” 

Nayuta opens his eyes wider, waiting for some sort of an explanation to follow. But Sota only smiles, the strange seriousness is gone from his voice.

“More to follow, if you come to the party.” 

He nods, with a smile pressed on the corner of his mouth. Why does he feel like he will never make it to that party? He scratches the back of his head, and answers in a low voice, to avoid choking up.

“Thank you, Sota.” He bows his head. 

“Come on,” the boy answers, trying to shake it off. But despite that, he seems to be happy for being shown gratitude.

When they step outside, Nayuta has to realize that nobody has indeed thought about calling a car for him. Sota checks the time on his phone.

“I think if I’m lucky, I can still make the last train to Chofu.” 

“If you can’t, we can get a taxi together,” Nayuta offers, mostly without thinking.

The champagne laughs in Sota until he almost snorts. 

“What, and ride to your house? I doubt that our shiny Prince lives in the same area as I, Your Royal Highness.” 

He looks at the time again, and his face clears up.

“But thanks. I’ll have to be running now.”

“Thank you, Sota,” Nayuta says again against his retreating back and this time he lets his voice crack. “For everything.”

Sota turns back, hugging the Boston bag to himself with one arm.

“Hey. Don’t be like that. It’s not like this goodbye is forever.” 

He doesn’t know why, but he has to squeeze a tear to the corner of his eye. 


End file.
